


The Grief Of A Time Lord - Stranger In A Strange Land

by HelenC



Series: The Grief Of A Time Lord [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenC/pseuds/HelenC
Summary: Part 2, this is a continuation of an old Merlin/Doctor Who crossover fanfic I started years ago repurposed for this project. Again warnings for very dark themes.
Series: The Grief Of A Time Lord [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821154
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	The Grief Of A Time Lord - Stranger In A Strange Land

The silent cry for help flew through the night-time darkness towards Camelot castle in the dim hope that it could find someone with the telepathic ability to receive it and respond to it. It had flown for miles already and the all important message, that could be difference between life and death for the man who sent it, was becoming weaker all the time. As it passed by the chambers of the court physician it finally found what it was searching for. A receptive mind. It found Merlin.

Merlin woke with a start; there was a voice inside his head calling out to him. "Please help me, urgent medical assistance required, please hurry" it begged. Merlin could tell from the faintness of the signal that whoever it was was somewhere in the forest, and it was evident from the pain and fear in the voice that the message was very serious indeed. If one of his own kind was in great distress and desperately needed help then Merlin would help them.

He shook Gaius awake telling him, as he dressed sleepily, about the telepathic message and the injured man in the forest. As soon as Gaius understood that a man's life could be dependent on their swiftness, he immediately banished the last vestiges of sleep. He and Merlin quickly gathered herbs, bandages, water in skins and blankets and stuffed them into a cloth bag, saddled two horses from the stables and galloped in the direction of the forest.

"Hello! Is anybody there." called Merlin, when he figured that they had ridden far enough into the forest. No answer was forthcoming. "Don't be frightened, we want to help you!" Still no answer. Gaius looked warily around in case Merlin's shouts had alerted anyone else to their presence but the forest remained deathly quiet. Merlin decided to try a different tack; he dismounted, closed his eyes and opened his mind to any others with the same abilities. After a few minutes of searching his mind touched another and now he knew exactly where their mystery man was.

They tied up their horses and carried their packs a little way further until they came to a clearing where an astonishing sight met their eyes. Standing in the middle of the clearing was a small, blue, wooden hut. It had a strange lamp like thing on the top, "police public call box", whatever that meant, in large white letters underneath and when they put their hands against it it seemed to hum with power as if it were alive in some way.

A groan from nearby snapped them out of their wonder at the strange object and reminded them why they were here. Lying not far from the wooden hut was the man who had sent the plea for help. He wore strange brown garments unlike anything Gaius or Merlin had ever seen and a peculiar kind of neckerchief round his neck.

He also had an arrow buried in his side and a growing red stain on the shoulder of his near floor length coat.

The man opened his eyes as Gaius knelt beside him, quickly unbuttoning his jacket and shirt, exposing the wounds. "You got my message, have you come to help me?" the man's voice was pained and hoarse barely more than a breathy whisper. Merlin came and knelt at the stranger's other side. "Yes, I got your message. My name is Merlin and this is Gaius. Who are you?"

“Merlin?” the man squinted trying to get his eyes to focus properly on the boy’s face “As in King Arthur, knights of the round table, Great wizard Merlin?” The young sorcerer and Gaius exchanged alarmed looks. Much of what he said confused them but this strange man seemed to know Merlin’s secret, if they took him back to Camelot now they would be taking a terrible risk. Suppose he were to let it slip in a state of delirium, even that much may make Uther suspicious if he was in the wrong mood.

“Someone once thought I was Merlin you know?” his eyes settled at a point in the middle distance as though he was fading away from them, “a long… time… ago” he murmured as passed into unconsciousness.

“We can’t just leave him here” urged Merlin, trying to allay Gaius’s unspoken fears “if he says anything, we just say he’s delirious and doesn’t know what he’s saying,” he looked down at the still, pale face of their patient, secretly rather intrigued by his words.

Gaius could see the curiosity and determination in his young ward’s face and felt a mixture of pride and concern flood through him, the boy’s drive to help others was admirable but he lacked caution and the old man knew only too well that that recklessness might well get him killed.

But Merlin was right, they couldn’t leave the man here, whatever his misgivings Gaius was still a physician and he couldn’t just abandon someone who needed his help so he uncorked one of the skins of water and soaked one of the bandages, using it to clean up some of the blood pooling alarmingly fast from the man's shoulder. The blood had a strange colour about it; sort of orangey mixed in with the red. He couldn’t sense magic in this stranger but if he could communicate with his mind as he had done before, Gaius mused, he may have to evade Uther himself.

Once he was satisfied that the wound was fairly clean and aware that the man had lost a lot of blood already, he bound the shoulder in bandages as best he could and moved his attention to the arrow still embedded in the patient’s side. Gaius tugged the arrow free with as swift a movement as he could manage and immediately applied pressure to the wound to stem the bleeding.

Between them they managed to wrap more bandages round his skinny body and tied them in place. His temperature seemed to be dropping rapidly so they wrapped him in one of the blankets, manoeuvred him as gently but as quickly as they could over Merlin’s horse, and rode swiftly back to Camelot; Gaius was all too aware of the dangers of hypothermia. The sooner they could get their patient back to the physician’s rooms where they could warm him up and examine him properly the better.

The guards weren’t paying that much attention as they galloped through the castle gates but Gaius was glad they’d got back before the people were up and about; as they carried the unconscious man through the corridors he was acutely aware he had no idea how he was going to explain tonight’s escapade if anybody asked, so, when they were finally able to lay their patient on the sick-bed in his chambers he gave silent thanks to anybody listening that he didn’t need to. He could figure out a plausible story for their mystery man later.

His first concern now though was making him better. He set Merlin to building up the fire while he started examining his patient. He took his wrist, feeling for a pulse. He found one but it was incredibly slow and consisted of a curious double twitch.

Merlin finished tending the fire and pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed.

“What is it?” he asked noting Gaius’ puzzled expression.

The old man didn’t answer but pulled down the blanket they’d tucked up to his chin and bent his head to the left side of the man’s chest; listening for a heartbeat, again it was detectable but slow. He then listened to the right side. There it was again! Another heartbeat, beating in opposition to the left hand one! Gaius sat back and gave Merlin a look of pure astonishment.

“What is it?” he tried again. “Gaius?”

“This man seems to have two hearts, one on each side of his chest.”

Merlin looked down at him, but he seemed so human; his clothes may be different, yes, but there was nothing about him which suggested, outwardly at least, that he wasn’t one of them. “He might be using some sort of glamour spell or something,” he suggested but only very half-heartedly, he knew it would be even more dangerous to have brought an unknown magical creature into Camelot no matter how injured it was or how human it looked. He really hoped he hadn’t endangered Camelot, even if his intentions had been good, he had already seen how easy it was to do the wrong thing for the right reason. But still it just didn’t _seem_ to him that magic was involved this time, he couldn’t pin-point why exactly, but the man just exuded trustworthiness.

Whatever the outcome they seemed to be committed now, so Gaius did his best to set aside his worries and concentrate on the task in hand, although he wasn’t sure how much help even his medical skills could be on someone who didn’t seem to be human.

Over the next few days he observed that the patient took a breath every six seconds, had a body temperature far lower than normal, in spite of any attempt on his part to raise it, such that his skin sometimes formed ice crystals without apparent harm and his deeply unconscious state that seemed so perilously close to death promoted his body’s healing in some way as he was almost able to watch the skin and muscle knit itself together in real time, a process he found both fascinating and unnerving in equal measure.

Gaius was sitting at his desk reading a medical text with a magnifying glass when he felt he was being watched. He looked up to find their mysterious patient eyeing him with an intense wariness. Immediately he got up and moved to his side.

“It’s alright, you’re safe here. I’m a physician. My name is Gaius, can you tell me yours?” he asked gently, anxious to ascertain his patient’s mental state now that he was finally conscious.

The Doctor didn’t answer but slowly took in the primitive room full of herbs and tinctures, the ancient books strewn on the table and back to the old, kindly seeming face looking at him with such concern. There was nothing here he found familiar. ‘Oh well’, he thought absently, ‘it was comfortable enough; he didn’t seem to be in danger, there was no sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth.’

Gaius tried again, a little worried by the disinterest in the stranger’s eyes. Eyes that looked incongruously ancient in such a young face. “Can you tell me your name?”

“What’s in a name?” he muttered with a sigh “Doctor, Warrior, Master, all will perish in time.”

Gaius frowned at that rather cryptic answer but let the matter go for now, the poor man was obviously suffering from some kind of madness and he’d seen that it did no good to push such patients; either they’d recover by themselves or they wouldn’t. He’d do what he could to help the stranger physically but ultimately whatever battle the man had to undergo for his sanity wasn’t Gaius’ to fight.

A look of consternation clouded the man’s features “a Rose by any other name would smell as sweet…” he murmured. It sounded like a quotation from something although Gaius couldn’t think what. But it was the crack in the voice on the word ‘rose’ that gave him pause. A lost love perhaps? He looked down at his patient and sighed; before giving the man’s good shoulder a sympathetic squeeze and moving back to his reading. He was starting to feel that this was all getting a bit beyond him.

As he settled back to read, the pot on the stove suddenly bubbled over, causing great gouts of flame to billow upwards with a loud bang. Swearing under his breath, Gaius leapt to his feet and dashed over before their dinner boiled away to nothing. When the chaos had been brought under control he turned around to find his patient crouched fearfully under the kitchen table his hands clamped over his ears, rocking slowly back and forth, humming a tune to himself, as if desperate to block out the world around him.

Gaius approached the crouched figure carefully and slowly knelt in front of him to be at his level. Even in the midst of the purges Uther wrought against the magical folk he had never seen anyone this scared, it seemed to radiate out from him like an energy. He couldn’t imagine what this man must have been through and he was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Gingerly he placed one hand on the man’s shoulder but kept it there even when he instinctively flinched away.

The Doctor’s head darted from under his arms, he could smell the smoke, hear the screams. He was still there! The rest must have been a dream.

“Fire!” He cried out suddenly, springing from his hiding place to scrabble at imaginary bits of timber, the Daleks seemed to have passed them by but there were still people trapped under the rubble. He was the Doctor, if he could save them, if he could focus on that he could push down what he had just seen, he could deal with it. He _could_ deal with it! He sensed someone beside him and turned to them agitatedly.

“Help me!” He implored, “We’ve got to get them out before the Daleks come back; if we can find a ship, if I can get back to my TARDIS maybe there’s a chance.” He could tell the stranger hadn’t moved “ _Please!_ Help me!”

Again Gaius gently laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “No one here needs our help,” much of what he said made no sense but Gaius understood enough to play along sufficiently to help him through this, although he was having a harder job trying to disguise the cracks in his voice.

“Over there, someone’s calling out! Can’t you hear them?!”

“There is no-one there, only phantoms. I’m sorry; there is nothing we can do.”

The battlefield slowly receded from the Doctor’s vision to be replaced by the dingy wood of the apothecary and the worried, pitying face of the old man. Gaius; that was his name.

The Doctor pulled himself roughly to his feet and backed away; he didn’t want anybody’s pity much less that of a stranger. Sensing this, Gaius tactfully returned to the cooking as the man regained his composure.

Much as the Doctor resented the loss of dignity he had to acknowledge that the physician had evidently helped save his life and so for that he supposed he should be grateful. Although if his immediate future was going to be one of near constant mental anguish: frequent nightmares and traumatic flashbacks, reliant on the kindness of strangers; death sounded a very comforting alternative.

One dark night after the Pompeii incident he had briefly looked back to that dreadful day when he had counted all the children on Gallifrey that day and committed it to memory as a sort of penance, he remembered it then not just for the children of Pompeii and his own but indirectly for all the others on all those other worlds. And, in private, he had wept for them and berated himself for his inability to save them, indulging himself in his most self-destructive tendencies.

But he had always prided himself in his ability to hide that side of himself from foes and companions alike. He had no desire to worry his friends on his behalf especially since there was nothing they could do to help him and he had no wish to give away advantages to his enemies. But now the genie was out of the bottle and behind the visceral pain of the memories the thing that hurt him most was the depth of shame he felt; he had struggled so hard to hide this weakness in him and he had failed. His friends would think him something broken, fragile, undependable. How could they possibly have confidence in him now?

He looked about him more critically than before; he had evidently landed in a medieval like society, no running water, herbal medicines, books of coarse parchment. He flicked through a couple and the text morphed from plain English to what must be the contemporary script and back again. Suddenly he remembered the TARDIS, he and she were linked at the most fundamental of levels, if she was hurt he could feel it as though the wound were his own… and vice versa. All at once his distracted mind came to a sickening conclusion. He had also forgotten all about his companions; they must be still in the TARDIS and if his mind was linked to hers… He had to save them.

He dashed out of the door before Gaius could stop him, navigating corridors at random until he found himself in the main square. Once again running on pure adrenaline he knocked aside a young stable-boy and sprang effortlessly into the saddle of the horse he was leading before haring off into the woods, ignoring the indignant cries behind him.

Merlin picked himself up and hurriedly remounted his own horse. The man had taken the royal hunting party completely by surprise but Merlin recognised their mysterious stranger at once. Accidentally stealing the Prince’s horse would not, he knew, help their guest’s case if, or more likely when, he had to account himself to Uther but at least he had a fair idea where he would be going. As Merlin galloped after him he wondered with a wry smile how the man would react to the knowledge of just on whose horse he was making his getaway.

The Doctor meanwhile had bigger concerns on his mind; he dimly remembered a console room filled with smoke. He had often mentioned to his companions that the TARDIS had a mind of her own; this was what allowed her to navigate the irrational complexities of the time vortex. What he had neglected to say was that this could cause her to exhibit destructively human behaviours; jealousy, selfishness, a misplaced sense of protectionism. And with his own mind in such torment who knows what effect that was having on his ship.

He vividly recalled a time before, when, due to the effects of anti-time, the TARDIS had sided against him in favour of Rassilon. She could be a far more dangerous opponent than most of the conventional enemies he fought and he spurred his horse on faster until he approached the clearing just in time to see the outline of a blue box fade away into nothingness. He leapt from the horse and fell to his knees on the patch of yellowed grass where the TARDIS had stood. They were gone.

“NOOOOOO!” he screamed, desperately grasping at thin air. He could still hear the song of her in his mind, a presence that until now had soothed him even when they were far away. Now though he just thought of his companions and how he’d failed them, to perish so very far from home. His mind feverishly cycled through any number of grisly fates they may be enduring at this very moment. And it was all his fault.

Weeping bitterly, he turned his back on the TARDIS’s mental presence, blocking out her crooning in the back of his mind until it was nothing but background noise and fell on his back, his arm thrown over his face. A pang of longing and deep-seated loneliness shivered through him but he suppressed it; he didn’t deserve that comfort, how dare he? Where he tread he too brought death, he may dress it up as fighting the injustices of the universe but ultimately he and his oldest friend, The Master, had that in common.

Donna had been right; he _did_ make soldiers of his companions. He had seen it before although he had often tried to block the knowledge from his conscious mind; he had seen how those who travelled with him changed. Taking greater and greater risks; became willing, almost eager to sacrifice themselves to protect him or defeat an enemy that by rights was not theirs to fight. Why? To impress him? Because they looked up to him and didn’t want to let him down? To prove themselves to him? He didn’t even deserve their friendship never-mind any kind of admiration. He was the real monster, a reckless, self-righteous crusader with a terrifying God complex that destroyed the lives of all those around him eventually.

He was dimly aware of the sound of horse’s hooves approaching behind him but paid them no heed his mind too occupied in self-recrimination. Even if she came back now, he decided, he wouldn’t go back out into the universe, he would stay among this community if they would have him and live out the rest of his days in obscurity. Voluntary exile would be his punishment although by rights he should be left to rot in the deepest, darkest dungeon these people could find for what he had done.

Merlin was hesitant to approach, the depth of despair the man was unwittingly emitting was almost painful to his latent telepathic senses but he pushed through to lie by his side.

Eventually the Doctor’s shoulders stopped shaking and he dropped his arm to stare blankly up at the slowly emerging stars. Merlin shivered at the lack of light in the man’s eyes, he looked to be only half alive.

“You wanted to know my name,” he suddenly spoke in a tone that was flat and lifeless. Merlin said nothing just waited, barely daring to breathe.

“I have had many, some I have chosen, some were given to me. To some I am the Oncoming Storm and the Bringer of Darkness, to others I am the Sandman. Once I was known as Time’s Champion. A very long time ago I was Theta Sigma. Most of my lives I have tried my best to be the Doctor but…” he gave a heavy sigh “I wonder now if I ever really kept that promise. On Earth I am usually simply John Smith, it’s as good a name as any.”

“Where are you from?” Merlin asked his voice barely more than a whisper.

The Doctor shook his head sadly “My planet isn’t there anymore, it was destroyed in war… I destroyed it… I had no choice.” He squeezed his eyes shut; fighting still more tears, and to himself added nearly inaudibly “Just as I destroy everything I touch.”

Wearily he got to his feet and walked back to where Merlin had tied up the horses, untied the white and swung himself easily into the saddle with a certain strange natural nobility.

“You know that’s the Prince’s horse you’ve borrowed,” said Merlin lightly as he mounted his own, trying his best to leaven the mood. The Doctor looked up surprised, anxiety clouding his features momentarily before once more settling on a resigned acceptance that was far more frightening. “Don’t you worry though, I’m sure we can sort things out.” The young man reassured, becoming seriously concerned about this John Smith’s apparent lack of will to live.

Merlin was not surprised that they were stopped as they trotted through the gates of Camelot and John was escorted to the castle dungeons for the night. He didn’t resist as he was taken and although Merlin thought that was almost certainly for the best if he was to receive clemency from Uther in the morning the extent of his passivity still worried him. It was as though the man wished to be punished and so would choose not to defend himself at all despite the fact he didn’t know what he was doing at the time and so couldn’t possibly be held responsible for his actions.

But as Merlin went to bed that night he also couldn’t help but worry about what Uther would say about his and Gaius’s role in this, after all they had taken the stranger in and although no real crime had taken place, the “stolen” horse was even now back in it’s stable, Uther had a paranoid mind and to him all crimes were alike. To him the what ifs counted far more than what had actually happened.

The next morning the hastily convened trial was assembled in the council chambers and the prisoner was led in in chains. He still wore the nightshirt he’d been wearing the previous day, his appearance was dishevelled and his eyes were baggy from lack of sleep but still he held himself with an uncommon dignity as he walked to the centre of the room.

“You have been brought here because you have been charged with stealing a royal horse, what do you have to say in your defence?” Uther demanded.

The prisoner said nothing, they could sentence him to death for all he cared, maybe then the pain would stop. He had failed his people; he had failed his friends, what was the use in him.

Uther appraised the prisoner critically “You are a stranger to these lands, how have you come to be here?”

The Doctor remained silent and Gaius felt the time had more than come to speak up on his behalf “If I may sire, I brought him here.”

“You, Gaius?”

“Yes sire, four days ago I was in the woods picking herbs and I came across this man, he was gravely injured so I naturally felt it my duty to tend to him as I could, his physical injuries healed quickly however I could not estimate the extent of the mental scars he might suffer.” This was a speech semi-rehearsed, Gaius had thought it best not to include Merlin’s part in the discovery of their mystery man at all and he had instructed him not to say anything even in his own defence to better protect his far bigger secret.

Uther was more inclined to give Gaius the benefit of the doubt after all he had served faithfully for many years, so although this stranger’s silence was becoming aggravating he deigned to give him one last chance.

“What is your name? You hold yourself more like a noble than a madman. Where are you from?” He asked in equal parts curious and impatient for an answer.

Finally the Doctor responded; which Gaius thought with relief was just as well as it might even sign his death warrant if he maintained his silence for much longer. “I was a Lord once, a Lord of Time but now my name is John Smith, I’m from…” briefly he saw flames leap up before him and took and involuntary step back with a gasp, his cuffed hands shielding his face, but he closed his eyes and consciously got his breathing back under control and the flames vanished once again.

“My home was lost in war and fire,” he answered truthfully, his voice merely a breathless whisper; “I am the last survivor of my people, I took the horse blindly in a desperate attempt to save some friends of mine from a danger of my own making. I failed.” His tone took on a distant quality and he seemed to sway slightly, his eyes unseeing “now I’m alone again, forever a stranger in a strange land.” With some effort he refocused his gaze and the court once more swam in his field of vision but it was too much this time, lack of sleep combined with the stressors of the previous couple of days and he collapsed unconscious to the floor of the chamber.

Gaius rushed forward to help him, turning him gently onto his back. His breathing was ragged but regular; however he was in no fit state to be questioned further. He looked up imploringly at the king desperately hoping that he could see that there was nothing to be gained in condemning this man.

Arthur, who had been watching the proceedings with interest decided to make his feelings known on the matter. “Father, forgive me but I see no reason to punish this man further, the stolen property has been returned and it is apparent that he is not in his right mind.”

Uther considered this, his son was right of course, but this ‘John Smith’ was unknown to them he may yet prove to be a danger, especially if his madness might cause him to become violent. He came to a decision.

“We will take no further action in this matter, however,” he paused and turned to his trusted physician and advisor “Gaius, although I have no doubt your intentions were honourable I am formally placing him in your care; from now on this stranger is your responsibility, if there are any other incidents I will be a lot less forgiving.”

“I understand Sire,” said Gaius, as the guards unlocked the shackles and helped lift the man onto a stretcher. He followed them from the great hall, silently letting out a sigh of relief; knowing Uther it could have been much worse.

When the Doctor eventually came to he was almost disappointed to find himself once more tucked up in the sickbed in Gaius’s quarters. He turned his head and saw the old man sitting beside the bed a serious expression on his face. “What happened?” he asked wearily.

“The king has released you into my care, he will overlook your actions this once but next time you will not be so lucky.” He studied the man’s face carefully as he settled back and fixed his unnaturally old gaze on the rafters.

Gaius had seen people in this condition before, it often looked almost physical; as though a deep, dark shadow was permanently hovering over them. Occasionally they would actively take their own life, but it was far more likely that they would simply neglect to look out for themselves until there was a fatal but preventable accident or they were killed in battle. Of course there was always the chance that they’d recover and find some new purpose, but until that time they could be a danger not only to themselves but also to others as the disregard for their own life caused reckless risk taking.

Which wasn’t to say that Gaius didn’t sympathise with him, he had seen what was probably a mere fraction of the hurt and turmoil going on in the man’s head and dearly wished he could help him heal. But he also had a wider responsibility to Camelot itself and in that spirit he levelled a stern expression at his patient and decided to be upfront about what his sentence entailed for those around him.

“Do you understand what that means? Your actions now do not only have consequences for you but for me as well.”

The Doctor turned back and caught the physician’s eye. For a fraction of a second a fierce anger flashed across his face at the unsaid words beneath, before once more settling into a mask of studied indifference. He understood perfectly, the old man and his people thought him a loose cannon, a man thoughtlessly seeking death even at the expense of those around him. Gaius didn’t understand at all, how could he?

For a while back there he had dared to hope that he might have been sentenced to the sweet release of death. However if this was to be his fate he would accept it for now, he’d find ways to pay back their hospitality. Secretly he knew he could escape whenever he wanted to, the active ingredients of aspirin being ridiculously easy to create even in this backwards time period. But for the time being he would live among them, maybe he would even use his superior knowledge to help them; this was Camelot after all, a land of legends and magic. If he couldn’t bend the rules here where could he bend them?

“Might I have some parchment and a pen?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware I'm laying it on a bit thick with the Doctor's self-recriminations, but I felt I had to to portray the depths of the Doctor's despair.  
> Don't worry, the companions' story will be told in the next part.


End file.
